Quidditch Proposals
by lunaleth
Summary: He asks her out every time Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup. She always declines. The seventh time, she runs away. LJ


**Quidditch Proposals  
**By Lunaleth

12.11.2009

He asks her out every time Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup. She always declines. The seventh time, she runs away. LJ

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

James Potter asked me out every single time Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup. And since Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup all seven years I attended Hogwarts, I had to put up with him for seven long years.

I didn't know him that well my first year. I'd heard about him, of course. Everyone had. He was an arrogant egomaniac, relentless prankster, and shameless brat. He had never talked to me much.

Everyone attended the last Quidditch match of the season. Now, I don't even remember against whom we were playing, but I do remember one thing: James flying down to me in the stands after we had won, grinning his giant arrogant grin. He floated a few feet above me. Everyone stared.

"Hey Evans!"

"Umm…Potter?" I replied hesitantly.

"Go out with me?"

I stared at him. This was probably the first _real_ conversation James had ever had with me. "Err…no thanks, Potter."

"Of course, of course. I knew you'd love…wait, come again?"

"I said…no."

James started at me, flabbergasted. "No! You're not supposed to decline! You're supposed to collapse onto the ground, fluttering your eyelashes, and immediately accept my overwhelming generosity!" He writhed around on his broomstick in his conceited denial. He looked like he was having a seizure. Unfortunately, he didn't fall off his broom.

That was the first year he pursued me.

---

The second year, he talked to me a bit more. I got to know him a bit better. However, it wasn't a favorable analysis. His head, if at all possible, had only inflated.

Gryffindor won the Cup again. This time, he flew down to me with an even larger, even more arrogant grin.

"Evans!"

I groaned. "Please go away."

"No, Evans, look at what I have for you!" He procured a large bouquet of red roses, holding it out to me and bowing low on his broomstick (until now, I didn't even knew that was possible.) Several girls around me swooned. I admit, it would have been an adorable gesture, if it had come from anyone other than him. "Now will you go out with me?"

I raised my eyebrow. "No."

He stared at me in shock. "But…but…I brought you roses! All girls love roses." He gestured to all the prostrate, fainting females around me. "Why aren't you like them?"

I glared frostily. "If you prefer your girls pathetic, subservient and unintelligent, then I suggest you go pursue the swooning lumps on the ground instead of annoying me."

Staggered, he watched as I turned my back and walked away.

---

Third year was no different. He still paraded around Hogwarts haughtily, surrounded by his three little lackeys. He pelted me with invitations to Hogsmeade every single week until I finally exploded at him in the Great Hall a week before the Quidditch Cup, calling him a conceited bastard that deserved to drown in the Dead Sea with his hands tied behind his back, his feet tethered to seven tons of lead, and his broomstick shoved down his throat.

He left me alone after that.

Thus, it was to my great surprise and consternation that he flew down to me once again after Gryffindor had the Cup in its grasp.

"Evans!"

I whirled to face him with a murderous glare. He backed away slightly. "I'm sorry that I made you so mad the other day," he said, seemingly contrite. "I didn't mean to annoy you that much, and I promise not to do it again." I glared. He was never going to keep that promise. "But I was wondering…me, you, Hogsmeade, next weekend?" He grinned hugely and ran his fingers through his hair.

I continued glaring. He waited for my answer, then backed away even more when none came.

"Evans?"

I slowly reached for my wand. His eyes widened. "Oh, well then, I can see you don't want to. I'll just be going then." He soared away quickly on his broomstick.

---

My fourth year came and went, the same as ever, with Potter and friends up to their usual idiocy. Well, Remus was a bit more decent than the others. I often wondered why someone like him would be friends with someone like…well, Potter.

I happened to sit next to Remus at the Quidditch Finals this year. Gryffindor brought the Cup home again, of course. And Potter flew down to me again at the end. Of course.

"Lily, Lily, Lily!" he chanted happily.

I fixed him with a defiant stare. "Only people I consider worthy of my respect are allowed to call me by my first name. You are certainly not one of them."

He put on a hurt puppy look. "Don't be like that. I have something for you." He drew out a small box and deftly flipped the top open, revealing a silver pendant laced with gold. It was beautiful, and a gift I would have accepted. From anyone except Potter. "Will you be mine?" A large crowd of female spectators sighed dreamily, fanning themselves faintly.

I rolled my eyes. "I certainly hope you don't believe I'm such a materialistic person that material goods would miraculously convince me to date an egotistical egomaniac like you."

He frowned. "Come again?"

Remus sighed. "She means that material gifts won't convince her to date an egoma— someone like you," he explained to James.

I smiled sweetly at Remus. "Thank you." Then I turned and walked away.

"She smiled at you!" James yelled at Remus from behind me. "Why won't she smile at me?"

Remus patted James sympathetically on the back.

---

I attended the Quidditch Finals rather reluctantly fifth year. I, being me, wanted to spend the day studying quietly in the library for my upcoming O.W.L. exams, but my friends persuaded me to go along.

"It's so much more fun with you there!" they insisted. I suspected they only enjoyed watching James Potter's botched attempts at winning my heart.

Speaking of Potter, he had become almost scarily obsessed with me this year. He followed me everywhere and spent half his time trying to win me over and the other half hexing people he disliked. I would shriek at him and invent insults even more colorful than the one I had composed in third year (which, I must say, I was still rather proud of), but he stubbornly persisted.

No one was surprised when he flew down to the stands after Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup for the fifth year in a row.

"Hey there, Evans."

"No."

"You don't even know what I'm about to say yet!"

"Don't worry, I know. So don't go to the trouble of saying anything more. You'll pollute the air."

"You really should stop fighting it, you know. You know we belong together." He smiled and ran his fingers through his hair.

I gaped in disbelief for a moment. "You unbelievably brainless, arrogant—" I fumed as I drew out my wand and began shooting hexes straight at him. He dodged them easily, almost lazily. Stupid reflexes.

"Geez, woman. You don't have to kill me! The entire female population at Hogwarts would hunt you down if you did, you know." He actually managed to smirk conceitedly while avoiding my spells.

My friends had to drag me away from the pitch that time. Lucky for him. They told me I looked absolutely murderous.

---

Sixth year brought along with it a slight surprise. He actually seemed a bit nicer. Of course, he still had his aggravatingly large head, but even I had to admit it was a bit deflated from previous years. We even had a few civil conversations throughout the year, astonishingly enough.

Thus, it was a slightly resigned Lily that was waiting for him when he flew down with the Cup in his hands.

"Lily!"

"Potter."

I was aware of the entire crowd silently watching our exchange, so I tried to be nice. "Uhh…congratulations on winning."

He looked like he was about to faint. "You…you actually…" He shook his head dazedly. "Th-thanks."

I nodded curtly.

"So...go out with me?" He looked hopeful.

I really didn't understand where all his optimism came from. Never in the past six years had I encouraged him in his foolish pursuits, but he always showed up as confident as ever. Stupid arrogance. "No," I replied automatically and walked away. However, this time, in addition to the vindictive pleasure I usually felt, I also experienced a tiny twinge of regret.

Odd.

---

And this brings us to my seventh and final year.

We both became Head students. After overcoming my initial surprise and anger, I reluctantly agreed that we could try working together. One thing led to another, and we began talking and laughing together, even becoming friends. Everyone at Hogwarts was astounded, to say the least. Several of Potter's fangirls actually fainted from shock. _That_ was rather amusing, I must say. The first time we walked down to dinner together, chatting lightly about Head duties, a few of the more obsessive ones twitched, eyes bulging, and fell over with a loud thump.

I found him to be a rather decent person after I looked past his (still slightly conceited) exterior. He cared for his friends. He still loved to play pranks– not to torture others anymore, but to make people laugh. He actually studied. And he still cared about me. He didn't ask me out once, but I could tell it was real, the way he looked at me. It disconcerted me.

James Potter was not supposed to be caring.

Finally, the day of the Quidditch Final rises bright and clear.

There is the inevitable: "GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

The sea of scarlet rises up as one, roaring and clapping. Seven red blurs circle the pitch, then converge into one happy mass. People hug, people cry, and everyone, almost everyone, is smiling. There are a few glum faces, of course. The green and silver clad fans aren't very happy.

And then there's me. I scan the sky nervously. I won't admit it, even to myself, but I'm scared to death. I see James flying down towards me.

And so I run.

He'll probably find me, of course. He always manages to find me. Once, in fourth year, I hid in a small bathroom behind the painting of the daffodils on the sixth floor, and when I came out, there he was, grinning and waiting for me. What a stalker.

I run back to the castle and hide behind a painting of 17th century wizards up on the third floor. I curl up in a corner of the secret passageway and, pathetically enough, start crying. I thought I had it all sorted out. I would go through my seven years of Hogwarts always despising James Potter. I am shocked to find that I no longer do. Rather, it is quite a different feeling that I experience these days.

Life is too confusing.

After only a few minutes, James slips into the passageway. Still in his disheveled Quidditch robes and carrying his broomstick, he quietly sits down in front of me. He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Lily?" he asks softly. "What's wrong?"

I sniffle. "Nothing."

He catches a tear on his finger and shows it to me. "Nothing?"

I shiver under his touch. James stays silent. After a while, he whispers, "Is it…me?"

I glare at him. "I knew you'd never change, _Potter_. You always think everything's about you, don't you…" I sniffle again.

He smiles slightly and sits there, patiently waiting.

I glare at the ground for a bit, then sigh and relent. "It's you."

He frowns. "I knew it. I'm sorry for anything I did…"

That does it.

"Why do you have to be so darn nice all the time?!" I yell.

He looks confused. "Sorry?"

"I had my life all planned out!" I cry. "I was supposed to hate you during my seven years at Hogwarts, and then after I left I was never supposed to think of you ever again! Why did you have to become so nice all of a sudden? You're not supposed to be nice! You're supposed to be an arrogant jerk! Why did you have to make me stop hating you? Why did you have to make me fall in love with you?" I bury my face in my hands.

James sits there, astonished, and then he comes to his senses. He pulls me into a hug, and I let go of any self-control I had and hug him back, tightly. I never want to let go.

"I never thought I'd hear those words," he whispers. "I love you too."

* * *

Author's Note: Awww. They're just so cute :)  
Hope you enjoyed it.

lunaleth


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